


Now I Know In Part

by shirasade



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bottom Kirk, Established Relationship, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, POV Kirk, Pon Farr, Porn with Feelings, Present Tense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 11:38:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6283057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shirasade/pseuds/shirasade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’ll get Saavik down here - maybe she’ll be willing to help. Too bad I didn’t bring the necessary equipment to let Spock kill you again.”</p><p>The joke falls flat, but Jim appreciates it nonetheless. Looking up, he quickly shakes his head, steps closer to the bed and takes Spock’s hand in his. He knows he’s blushing, but there’s no time for embarrassment, so he simply states, “That… won’t be necessary.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Now I Know In Part

**Author's Note:**

> _The Search for Spock_ AU. PWP. Dubcon, I guess, since Spock isn’t in his right mind (literally). I just couldn’t resist this idea once it popped into my head.  
>  Title from 1 Corinthians 13:12: For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

Spock is almost unrecognizable when they find him on the decaying planet. It’s not so much his age, although he’s much younger than when Jim first met him, but the emptiness behind his eyes, even as his body rages. It’s like a knife being twisted in an already open wound, seeing the Vulcan again but not _being_ seen. 

The pain flares into something almost unbearable when Jim sees David’s too-still body. He’s only just gotten him back - sometimes it feels to him that the only lasting relationship he’s ever managed to maintain is that with _Enterprise_ , and even she’s gone now. Saavik’s words, offering all the comfort she can, do nothing to soothe him, and for a long moment all he feels is a maelstrom of grief and anger, despite the knowledge that very soon they’ll all be dead, too, unless he finds them a way off the planet.

It’s Bones who gets him back on his feet by physically shoving Spock at him. Jim’s arms come up automatically, wrapping themselves around the Vulcan, and it’s as if someone flipped a switch in both of them. Spock, who’s been mindlessly twisting and resisting until now, goes limp in Jim’s embrace, actually buries his head against Jim’s neck, his breathing slowing. Jim, on the other hand, is suddenly back in the present, the fog of his grief dispelled at least for the time being, his mind crystal clear and already beginning to formulate a plan. Spock might not be present mentally, but the body in his arms is hot and wonderfully alive, and Jim needs to get them somewhere safe so they can bring Spock home.

He succeeds, although as per usual it’s a close thing. He has to let go of Spock in order to fight Kruge, which is harder than it should be, considering that their lives depend on it. However, there’s a part of him that’s rather insistent that he never wants to let Spock out of his sight again. At least he can be certain that the Vulcan won’t move from where he left him, and when he’s finally gotten rid of Kruge, he has no energy to spare for remorse, his entire focus already back on Spock.

He looks like he did during their first five-year mission, and Jim feels nostalgia wash through him at the sight even as he pulls Spock to his feet. That would have been easier if Jim also had the body of his younger self again, he thinks with a half-smile. Then he starts, because he’s pretty certain that it’s not a tremor in the ground that just caused Spock to collapse against him, pressing their entire bodies against one another. He peers into the familiar face, but it’s still vacant - except that there seems to be a fire burning behind those dark eyes that wasn’t there before. A memory niggles at Jim’s subconscious, but the planet is just about ready to blow, so he pushes it back and hails Kruge’s bird-of-prey instead.

By the time they’ve dealt with Maltz and managed to set a course towards Vulcan, Genesis is dying a fiery death, taking David’s remains with it, but Jim has no time to watch its demise, already on his way to what passes for a medbay on a Klingon ship. When he gets there, Bones looks tired, eyes suspiciously rimmed with red, and one look at Spock’s too-still form on the bed is all Jim needs for the pieces to fall into place.

“You had to sedate him? So it’s _pon farr_ , then.” He doesn’t really need the confirmation he sees in McCoy’s eyes, the memory of Spock’s erection pressing into him still vivid. “Do we have time to get him to Vulcan?”

Again, he already expects the answer before it comes: “I don’t think so, Jim. Although he’s physiologically almost the correct age again, his metabolism is still running faster than it should.” The doctor sounds almost apologetic, but Jim refuses to meet his eyes, keeping his own fixed on Spock’s face, every line of it tense even in sedation. “I’ll get Saavik down here - maybe she’ll be willing to help. Too bad I didn’t bring the necessary equipment to let Spock kill you again.”

The joke falls flat, but Jim appreciates it nonetheless. Looking up, he quickly shakes his head, steps closer to the bed and takes Spock’s hand in his. He knows he’s blushing, but there’s no time for embarrassment, so he simply states, “That… won’t be necessary.”

Despite the quick widening of his eyes, Bones appears much less surprised than he should be, and Jim knows he’s in for some serious teasing once this crisis passes, yet for now he’s simply grateful for his friend, who nods and backs out, but not before resting a comforting hand on Jim’s shoulder.

The door slides shut behind Bones, and Jim realizes he has no idea what to do once Spock regains consciousness - or whatever passes for consciousness if one’s mind is currently residing in another person. For a moment he wonders whether he’s about to seriously mess up, whether he should comm for Saavik after all, let her take over. They’ve never done this before, Spock’s human half apparently enough to spare him the seven-year cycle. However, the thought passes as quickly as it came, his entire body screaming in denial at the idea to let anyone else take his place, get this close to Spock when Jim is _right there_.

Mind made up, Jim loosens his grip on Spock’s hand, turns it into something like a finger-kiss, tracing over and around Spock’s lifeless hand, trying to push his consciousness into the touch, although he’s not sure it works without the guidance of the warm, blue fire he associates with Spock’s mind. He’s not entirely clueless when it comes to Vulcan customs, after all, knows more than most humans ever will, and he’s always been good at improvisation. And it’s not as if he doesn’t know the body spread out before him almost as well as his own.

Spock is twitching again, obviously throwing off the effects of McCoy’s drugs, and Jim uses the little time he has left to take off his boots and torn uniform jacket. Then he settles onto the edge of the medbed, cupping Spock’s cheek gently with one hand, the other coming to rest on his chest, before realizing that Spock’s heart is somewhere else. Gently parting the blanket the Vulcan is wrapped in, Jim trails questing fingers around his side, until he can feel the steady thrum of green blood being pumped under his fingertips.

Spock shivers beneath his touch, and when Jim looks up, his eyes are open. They still lack any trace of personality, but they’re dark with arousal and intensely focused on Jim. It’s familiar enough that heat begins to pool in Jim’s belly, and he traces the elegant brows with his hand, rewarded with a greenish flush beginning to spread down from Spock’s face to his chest when Jim reaches the point of one ear. A faint growl escapes Spock, and Jim smiles: “So you still like that…”

Then he leans down and presses a soft kiss to Spock’s lips, feels them part, and pulls back before it becomes too obvious that it’s just a reflex and not an actual response. Instead he sits back up and is gratified when Spock follows him. They’re facing each other, and Jim can feel Spock’s heartbeat speeding up under his touch. An erection begins to take shape under the blanket that still half-covers Spock, and Jim decides to cut right to the chase and turns away to look for something to use as lube. The moment he lets go of Spock, however, the Vulcan is on him, his entire body plastered against Jim’s back, breath hot against his neck, and Jim barely manages to wrestle him back onto the bed. He keeps one hand in the middle of Spock’s heaving chest, and knows he sounds impossibly fond when he says, grinning: “Alright, alright, I get it, you like to be touched.”

The Vulcan is calm again, almost pliable under Jim’s touch, although Jim knows that will change once the _pon farr_ gains strength. He has no intention of letting it get that far, though, and manages to retrieve a tube of something slick from a drawer while remaining in constant physical contact. The writing on it is in Klingon, of course, but Jim manages to decipher enough of the ingredients to be pretty sure it’s safe.

Undressing while always keeping a hand on Spock’s skin is something of a feat, but James T. Kirk has gotten naked under weirder circumstances, and finally he’s as bare as Spock, although admittedly not as aroused. He wonders how much of his emotions bleed through to Spock, whether his telepathy is even working without a mind to process the signals, but since there’s no sign that Spock’s interest is wavering in the slightest, he pushes those questions aside. Instead he climbs onto the thankfully rather wide bed, fitting himself snugly against Spock’s side, feeling any remaining tension bleed from the Vulcan’s body as Jim anchors him with a thigh thrown over narrow hips. Almost instinctively, Jim can feel his own body relax as well, comforted by the familiar heat, the soft scratch of dark body hair against his skin, a sensation he’d thought forever lost to him.

Dark eyes watch him intently, and it’s unsettling enough for Jim to close the small distance between their mouths and kiss Spock again, feel their breaths mingle, warm and moist like the space between their bodies. He can feel Spock’s long fingers twitch, trapped against his chest, and he takes them into his hand and kisses the smooth palm. Then he places it above Spock’s head, mirrors the movement with his other hand, and tries to communicate without words that he wants the Vulcan to keep them there.

There’s still no understanding in Spock’s eyes, but he complies readily enough, and Jim returns his attentions to Spock’s face, placing kisses all over it, letting his tongue trace the line of pointed ears. He’s immediately rewarded with a bucking of Spock’s hips, his cock completely hard against his thigh, and Jim can’t help but feeling a bit smug. Then he proceeds to explore Spock thoroughly with lips and hands and sometimes teeth, mapping all the ways in which this body differs from the one before. The differences are smaller than he’d have thought, just a few scars missing, and when he wraps his lips around the already leaking erection and hears Spock hiss above him, it’s enough to send real sparks of lust through Jim.

Slightly uncoordinated hands land on his head and shoulders, as if Spock wants to reciprocate in some fashion but doesn’t know how. Giving the hard shaft one last affectionate lick, Jim moves upwards again, latching onto a dark nipple while he blindly fumbles with the lube. Strong fingers bite into his back, lips pull back into something that’s almost a snarl, and Jim eases up on his teasing abruptly, needing time to prepare himself. He pushes two fingers inside himself, bites back a gasp when sharp pain reminds him not to rush things. Carefully beginning to work himself open, he soothes Spock with his free hand, continues by rubbing his whole body against his side despite feeling slightly ridiculous, but Spock quiets, although he’s still breathing hard, sweat making his skin glisten.

Even as he twists three fingers deep into himself, Jim wonders whether there’s a part of Spock that holds back, that _remembers_. Like muscle memory, the awareness of human frailty in comparison to Vulcan strength. Then Jim finds his prostate and thoughts flee, eyes sliding shut as he loses himself in the sensation for a moment. 

A growling noise brings him back, and then he’s on his back, Spock hovering above him, face a hungry mask. They’ve run out of time, but Jim figures he’s as ready as he’ll ever be and wraps his legs around Spock’s hips. A twist, and he’s on top again, a triumphant laugh escaping him, since normally Spock would never be taken by surprise like this. However, it’s a tactical move, not a game, allowing Jim to grip Spock’s hard cock and carefully lower himself onto it, controlling the penetration.

The stretch burns, but not too much, and Spock’s dark eyes are fixed on him, lust masking the lack of a consciousness behind them, his hands fumbling for purchase until Jim settles them onto his thighs. He sets a fast rhythm, not bothering with finesse or with his own pleasure, figuring it would be best for Spock to take the edge off right away. 

It seems to work, a steady stream of noise escaping Spock, which Jim would probably find endearing, since Spock is normally mostly entirely silent during sex, if it wasn’t also incredibly hot. Then the Vulcan’s body arches, almost unseating his rider, and Jim pitches forward, just barely managing to catch himself with one hand on Spock’s shoulder, the other on the bed next to him. The taut stretch of muscle as Spock throws his head back, baring his throat, beckons, and Jim can’t resist biting down. Strong hands clamp down on his hips painfully, locking him in place, and Spock comes with another wordless sound.

When Spock has stopped shuddering, Jim eases himself off him, stretches sore muscles until he’s caught in that hungry gaze again, Spock watching him, wide-eyed and silent. He’s already at half-mast again, and Jim chuckles and grabs the lube again, trailing a slick hand down Spock’s chest, wrapping it around the hardening flesh. Jim gets him off almost as quickly as the first time, one hand moving rapidly over Spock’s cock, the other teasing his balls and the hole behind. He might not consciously remember, but Spock’s body still sings like an instrument under Jim’s ministrations, a sight Jim thought he’d never be privileged to witness again. It causes emotions quite unlike lust to catch in his throat when Spock falls apart again, but Jim pushes them back by gently cleaning the mess of fluids from the Vulcan’s relaxed body.

They rest side by side for a few minutes, Jim with his arms wrapped around Spock, who just lets himself be held, and Jim pretends it’s by choice that they don’t talk. It’s a state that doesn’t last long, unsurprisingly, but what does surprise Jim is the sensation of lips against his chest. It’s nothing like a proper kiss or even a bite, but it sends shivers over his skin anyway, and he luxuriates in the contact until he realizes Spock is rocking against him, pushing his erection into Jim’s hip with increasing urgency. Jim bites back a laugh and fishes out the well-used tube of lube once again. 

He doesn’t need a lot of prep work this time, still pleasantly stretched from before, and when he flips onto his stomach, the cock trapped between his body and the pillow with which he’s propped himself up is heavy with blood. He glances over his shoulder at the Vulcan still plastered to his side and moves his ass back in an open invitation even as he uses one hand to guide Spock to kneel behind him. 

The answering push is uncoordinated, blunt cock sliding ineffectively between Jim’s cheeks, but the intent is clear, and it doesn’t take much direction from Jim until he’s filled again, Spock bottoming out with a sound that’s sheer pleasure. It’s a sentiment Jim shares, and this time there’s no denying the heat spreading through his body from the point where he’s connected to Spock. He’s got one leg pulled up under him for leverage, but he’s pretty sure Spock is meeting him halfway, fingers digging into Jim’s hips as he rocks into him over and over, inelegant but enthusiastic. 

Jim groans and slips a hand around his erection, jerks himself in the rhythm of their movements until all he feels is fire spiraling outwards from his groin and everything goes blank for a moment. It can’t have been long, but when he blinks his eyes open, Spock is completely motionless behind him, albeit still buried inside him. He looks back and meets the Vulcan’s curious gaze. It’s the closest to an actual expression he’s shown other than lust, and something inside Jim clenches. Spock looks… fascinated, and it’s the most beautiful thing Jim’s seen since learning that Spock survived.

He’s also still hard, and Jim manages a grin, rocking backwards in invitation. He’s rewarded with a hiss, and then they’re fucking again. Spock must have been close already when Jim came, because it takes barely more than a couple of thrusts before he spills. This time, however, he pulls out at the last moment and paints Jim’s back, a feral, almost possessive look on his face, which makes Jim laugh weakly but also turns him on in spite of his body’s exhaustion.

Once he’s done marking his territory, Spock settles back down next to Jim, presses close and rests his head on Jim’s shoulder. His hands move over Jim’s side in what might be considered a petting motion, and Jim’s breath hitches at this small tenderness. He presses a kiss into Spock’s sweat-matted hair and pulls a blanket over them both, making them as comfortable as possible for two grown men on a medbed meant for one, even if it was one rather big Klingon.

Impossibly, he falls asleep. 

He’s woken by Spock rolling on top of him, hard cock pushing into Jim’s stomach, and despite his surprise Jim laughs, feeling rested and light-hearted for the first time since Spock’s death. A look into the Vulcan’s face, still devoid of any spark of recognition, brings a painful reminder of what’s still ahead, but the weight and heat of Spock’s body covering his is familiar enough, and Jim opens his legs to allow him even closer. His own dick is starting to show a renewed interest as well, and soon they’re locked together, rocking back and forth until Spock stiffens and comes, collapsing top of Jim, his breath gusting hot and wet over Jim’s neck.

For a small eternity Jim simply lies there, on his back beneath a semi-conscious Spock, and stares down at the tousled black hair in wonder, letting his hands wander gently up and down Spock’s bare back. He hadn’t expected to ever get to feel this again, and it takes the urgency out of his own arousal. They don’t know, after all, whether the _fal-tor-pan_ will work, will return Spock’s _katra_ to its rightful vessel, and maybe this is the last chance for Jim to be this close to Spock and still hope for a happy ending.

Spock stirs again, and Jim resolutely pushes those melancholic thoughts away, focusing instead on the simple physicality of turning them over. As always, Spock lets himself be positioned, and Jim has to blink a few times, oddly touched by the childlike trust. He kneels between Spock’s legs and kisses him a few times, almost feeling as if Spock is responding more this time around. Kissing is not the objective, however, only a stop-over while Jim fumbles for a wet wipe from the side-table and cleans up the worst of the mess of dried-up semen and cold sweat. 

His ministrations are enough to coax Spock’s cock into hardness again, and Jim can’t help but grin. At this point it seems rather likely that Jim’s own body, feeling every year of its age by now, will reach its second climax of the night in the not-too-distant future, but not even in their youth had either one of them been quite this insatiable. Still smiling, he licks a long stripe along Spock’s erection before beginning to suck him off in earnest, using every trick he’s ever learned, and soon Spock’s hands are twisting Jim’s hair painfully. Jim pulls off long enough to firmly set them over Spock’s nipples, not caring whether the Vulcan does anything or just leaves them lying there, and returns to his task.

Once more Spock is making quite a lot of noise, making Jim realize how silent he is the rest of the time. It’s still a big turn on, and Jim lets go of Spock’s balls to reach down and give himself a few good pulls. He stops before he gets too close, however, instead slipping a probing finger between Spock’s ass cheeks. The Vulcan freezes immediately, making a sound that’s decidedly unhappy, and Jim quickly removes the offending digit. 

Apparently being penetrated is not on the menu, although normally it’s an act they both enjoy. Maybe it’s something to do with the mating instinct of the _pon farr_ , but Jim doesn’t really care, simply goes back to using his hands on Spock’s balls and lower shaft, occasionally reaching up to tease a nipple into hardness. It’s not much longer before the bitter taste of semen begins to fill his mouth, Spock’s whole body arching underneath his ministrations. Jim holds him down with a firm arm across his belly and swallows it all.

Afterwards, Spock drifts off into what appears to be dreamless sleep, and Jim is pleased to note that the Vulcan looks much more relaxed, although his skin is still hotter than it should be. Jim uses the break to check in with the Bridge, reassured to hear that they’re well on their way to Vulcan. A part of him wonders what the crew are thinking he’s doing holed up in the infirmary with Spock, but he’s content to let McCoy cover for them, no longer caring whether they suspect the true nature of Jim’s feelings for the Vulcan. 

Having heard that Spock is asleep, the Doctor actually pokes his head in for a quick check-over, bringing with him water, several nutrition bars and a surprisingly gentle admonishment: “We don’t know how long this lasts, so you have to make sure to eat and stay hydrated. You’re not hurt, are you?”

Jim, having covered himself hastily with a blanket, quickly drains a bottle of wonderfully cool water before answering, “Don’t worry, Bones. He might not be _Spock_ , per se, but he’s not an animal.” He rests a hand on Spock’s bare shoulder, his thumb drawing mindless circles, and can’t suppress a tender smile when Spock turns into his touch. “And I don’t think it’ll be much longer, he’s already so much calmer.”

As if to prove him wrong, however, Spock chooses this moment to wake up, carelessly dislodging the blanket Jim had thrown over him and treating McCoy to clear proof of his re-awakening ardor. Jim might have laughed at the doctor’s hasty retreat if he wasn’t so busy wrangling a lap-full of aroused Vulcan. 

He ends up on his back, Spock’s erection sliding against his own, slicked by hastily applied lube, while Spock rocks back and forth, keening wordlessly. Jim spreads his legs and slides a hand between their bodies, wrapping it around their cocks. If he was younger, he’s sure he’d be coming right now, but as it is, he gets to enjoy the beautiful sight of Spock falling apart once again, spilling himself over Jim’s fist. Afterwards he slumps down, burying his face against Jim’s neck, his breath coming in short, hot bursts.

Jim laughs softly and rolls the Vulcan’s heavy weight to the side. He’s still hard himself, and he uses Spock’s recuperation period to slide first two, then three fingers inside himself, stretching and slicking himself, because now he’s the one who’s impatient for Spock to be back inside of him. _Where he belongs_ , a small voice whispers, and Jim determinedly doesn’t consider the fact that this might very well be the last time he gets to do this, because even if the _fal-tor-pan_ works, who’s to say how death might have changed Spock.

Those are thoughts for later, though, and Jim leans down to suck Spock back to hardness. It doesn’t take much, and soon Spock’s cock is filling Jim’s mouth, hips moving restlessly, but his hands are almost gentle on Jim’s bare shoulders. Closing his eyes and burying his nose in the familiar musk and wiry black hair, Jim gives him one last lick and considers which position would be best. In the end, however, he discards practicality in the face of his own desire to at least pretend that this is more than a physical act. He’s always liked it best when they were face to face, a preference he suspected Spock shared, and not just because it made it easy to mind-meld, should they choose to do so.

Now Jim opens his legs widely and fumbles to align Spock’s slick cock with his well-prepared hole. As always, the Vulcan doesn’t actively participate, but he does hold still while Jim arranges them, his arms framing Jim’s head, his dark eyes fixed on Jim’s face, until he’s sheathed all the way inside Jim. Only then does he begin to move of his own accord, fucking smoothly in and out of Jim’s body, sparking pleasure with every thrust until they’re both grunting and moaning, until Jim can almost believe that this is just them, making love.

His legs ache from being wrapped around Spock’s torso, but he’s too far gone to care, reduced to clutching Spock’s shoulders, his cock deliciously rubbing against the lean stomach with every rocking motion, smearing it with pre-cum. Then, suddenly, Spock dips his head and clumsily pushes his lips against the corded muscles of Jim’s stretched neck in what’s neither a kiss nor a bite, and it’s that gesture that tips Jim over the edge the next time the head of Spock’s cock slides over his prostate.

All through his orgasm, Spock keeps moving, but he does so gently, barely more than a soft rocking of his hips. It somehow draws out Jim’s pleasure, melts his bones until he’s almost senseless with it. And still Spock doesn’t stop, keeps thrusting long and slow and so sweet Jim can feel tears prickle behind his eyes. He blinks them away, gathers enough of his wits to capture Spock’s face in his hands, peer into those fathomless black eyes and whisper, “Now, Spock, come now, _t’hyla_.”

He can’t be certain whether it’s his words or the clenching of his internal muscles around Spock’s erection, but the Vulcan obeys, his body stiffening and then releasing as he comes with bone-deep shudders, empties himself deep into Jim’s body. This time, Spock doesn’t make a sound, and for a small eternity it feels as if they’re caught in a shared moment, eyes locked just as their bodies are. 

Then Spock’s eyes slide shut and he collapses on top of Jim, who can’t suppress a wince as the protest of abused muscles begins to register in his tired brain. Something tells him that this is it, that they’ve made it, and with a groan he rolls Spock onto his back and gets something to wipe them both down. Then he dresses, guzzles down some water and eats a protein bar, trying to decide whether to wake Spock to do the same. However, the Vulcan is truly asleep, and Jim can’t bring himself to disrupt this hard-won peace. 

He should probably call Bones, have him make sure the _pon farr_ is truly over, but for a long moment Jim simply stands next to the medbed and stares down at the familiar features, which by now look almost exactly the way they should. He reaches out and gently traces the wrinkled skin with his fingertips, indulging himself for just a minute longer before reality sets back in. 

This mission has cost him dearly - David, _Enterprise_ , probably his career - but Jim can’t regret it, not when he can still feel Spock with every aching muscle of his body. Not when there’s a chance that Spock will look at him again, and _see_.


End file.
